Events Occur In Real Time
by Pentakill Lux
Summary: To say that Stiles is having a bad day would be a gross understatement. As it is, he's not sure how he ended up here, depending on Derek Hale of all people to save him - again. Takes place somewhere after 2.05.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not sure what it says about me that I'm currently comparing myself to a girl? It helps a bit that it's a hot girl, but yeah, still not optimal. But the whole "kidnapped, kidnapped and kidnapped again"-thing just seems to fit right now. The difference is that my dad might be the next best thing to Jack Bauer, but he's currently a wee bit busy looking for some killer he's never going to find. So I guess the next on the list to save me would be Scott, except Scott probably has absolutely no idea I'm missing, which just leaves Derek._

_And that's another thing, how the hell did I even get into a situation where I'm depending on Derek Hale, of all people, to save my life? Okay, I know that one too. It's just another one of the things about the past 24 hours that I'm not all that proud off, because if I hadn't left Derek's bed, I wouldn't be here._

_Okay, what the hell, here goes nothing. Events occur- well, not so much in real time._

* * *

One of the best things about Stiles' piece of shit jeep is that it's really good when they have to drive through the wet mud of the forest. It doesn't matter if it gets dirty or scratched and if they get stuck, which they do a lot, because the last three days of rain has made the already crummy tracks between the trees even lousier, he has a co-pilot with super strength that can wedge them free.

It's a stupid idea though, to drive all the way out here in the late afternoon on the coldest, foggiest day all week, just because it was the only day they could sneak Allison with them. And of course it had been Scott's idea. But Stiles has to admit that when it comes to training environment this is definitely Hard Mode.

"I'm really uncomfortable with this." Allison says, taking out her compound bow from the back of the jeep. "I really don't want to shoot you."

Scott looks at her with a blank expression that clearly states that he doesn't see the problem at all. "It adds realism!"

"Yeah." Allison agrees. "It also adds realism to all the nightmares I'll be having, after I shoot my own boyfriend!"

Scott walks up to her and gives her a kiss on the nose. "You're a great archer. You're the best one I know."

"I know." She says confused and Stiles has to smile a bit, because Allison is many things, but modest about her skills with a bow isn't one of them.

"So," Scott continues and takes off his jacket and puts it in the jeep. "If I'm going to be able to dodge the arrows of the second best archer I need you to help me get into shape."

"We already talked about this, Scott. My dad is _not_ going to shoot you." Allison argues.

"No, of course not. Why would he shoot the guest of honor for all your cozy family dinners?" Stiles interjects and pulls the black sports bag out of the jeep.

"Seriously, can we please get past that?" Scott mutters, but at least he has the decency to look properly sorry, because Stiles almost drowned. And he had to spend more than two hours keeping Derek Hale above water! And Scott hung up on him! And did he mention that Derek Hale weights like a ton?

Once Stiles is satisfied that Scott knows they haven't _gotten past it_ - in the slightest - he continues. "But you're not the only hunters out there, and as much as it pains me to say this, Scott is right. He needs to get into shape."

Allison looks as though she's about to argue, but the collective exasperated stare she receives from Scott and Stiles keeps her quiet.

"I'll check the traps and start the clock in twenty minutes." Stiles says and sets the alarm on his phone. "Just remember what I told you about going with your guts and you'll be fine. Don't worry about running into a trap. And don't think about how Allison's granddad would cut you in half if you get cough in a trap. Oh, and try to forget that it's your girlfriend who's shooting deadly arrows at you." He ends and pads Scott's shoulder in encouragement, ignoring the way Scott glares at him.

The traps they use for practice are still there, spread out in the terrain in a strategic chaos. Stiles moves two of them to keep it interesting and resets one of the tripwires that's been triggered by a fallen branch.

He's just about to go spread the rest of the scent track that Scott is supposed to follow when he sees the cut wire on one of the traps.

He picks it up and studies the marks around the end. The wire is metal, thick steel cables that Allison has taken from her dad's inventory and it's been cut like it was a string of wool. Judging by the gashes Stiles guesses it's been done with a set of claws.

It's not the first tracks of rogue werewolves they've come across while training out here. Stiles would love to believe it's the same one, but one werewolf would have to be very stupid to stay in this area and go into Stiles' traps repeatedly.

And sure, Stiles doesn't mind - if there absolutely has to be rogue werewolves in this area - that they're a little stupid, but it seems too much to ask for. Especially with the luck they've had lately.

It's already been twenty-five minutes, five minutes since Scott should have left the jeep. It usually takes Scott four minutes flat to find Stiles - if he can avoid the traps, which has really been his biggest problem so far. But it's the first time they've added deadly arrows to the mix and Stiles isn't surprised that the clock passes the seven minute mark without Scott turning up. Actually his biggest concern is that Scott forgot the time because he was too busy making out with Allison, which Stiles would totally understand and probably also support if he wasn't the third wheel all the time.

"Hi, Sweetie." The female voice takes him completely by surprise, mostly because he was expecting Scott to jump at him in his usual overly-dramatic way. And that might have been a contributing factor to Stiles less than graceful descent, but the main reason is that Stiles never was very good at spinning around really fast. It's like his feet just won't move fast enough and he loses balance and almost does a face-plant in the mud before his hands comes up to break the fall. The woman smiles at him with her perfect white teeth and crouches down in front of him. "What are you doing out here, pet?"

Stiles knows that she isn't necessarily dangerous just because she's a werewolf; he knows enough about them by now to accept that there's good and bad werewolves, just like there's good and bad humans. It's just that from his general experience most werewolves seems to have a tendency to be - well, dicks.

Stiles lack of answer doesn't seem to bother her. Instead she helps Stiles to his feet and brushes his clothes free from dry leaves in a way that leaves Stiles slightly hot and bothered. "Where's your pack?"

"My…Um," Stiles begins and swallows nervously, because he's not really used to being looked at like he's edible. "My pack?"

"Yes, honey. You have a very distinctive smell." She places a hand gently on Stiles' hip, letting it glide around his waist as she circles him. "Of werewolves."

"I'm... I'm not..." Stiles tries, but his brain isn't quite willing to supply the rest of the sentence.

"Oh, but I know _that_." She smiles. "But some werewolves like having pets, some even marry humans. It's not uncommon." As her hand reaches Stiles lower belly it dips even lower, making Stiles take an involuntary step back. "Not in the mood for games, pet? Well that's okay. I just need you to tell me where we can find the Alpha."

"We?" Stiles wonders out loud and yeah okay, drawing attention to someone's verbal slips is usually a really bad idea. Especially when said person have razor sharp fangs and claws.

The woman huffs out an amused breath, but suddenly she seems a lot less friendly. "Of cause you had to be smart. Look, just take us to your Alpha, pet, before I decide that you're of no use to me."

"Kill me and he'll rip your throats out." Stiles counters, as his brain suddenly kicks back in and decides to make up for the temporary shutdown with severe verbal diarrhea.

"Somehow I think no." A male voice says in broken English and the shape of a man walks out of the fog. He might possible be even bigger then Boyd. "If they cared that much for you, I think, they would not let you alone out here."

Stiles tries backing up, hoping that he can somehow lure them into the trap, but at the same time he knows it's no use unless Scott is close by, because there's one trap and two of them. And where the hell is Scott anyway, how fucking long can it take to wolf his ass through a mile of forest? And Stiles manages to think all this between starting to move and falling on his back four seconds later because his legs give in.

And by the time the arrow hits the huge man in front of Stiles in the shoulder and Scott finally makes that dramatic entry, saying "What makes you think he's alone?" like the corniest action hero of all fucking time, Stiles might be shaking a bit more than he's willing to admit.

The stranger might be wounded, but he's still a regular tower compared to Scott. Luckily though, there's little loyalty between strays and the woman choose to cut and run, possibly motivated by the arrow that grazes her cheek and penetrates the pine tree behind her with all the power of a .50 caliber sniper bullet.

But the injured werewolf isn't backing down, not even when he's left alone. Instead he roars as he _wolfs out_ mid jump, crashing against Scott with full werewolf-power. They roll on the ground, disentangle and jump into mirroring crouches. Stiles scrambles to his feet and Allison is there, gripping his arm and pulling him up and away.

"Get behind me." She orders and Stiles doesn't feel very manly, but he does as he's told and watches as Allison draws the string of the compound bow, waiting for her opening.

Scott is fast, but he's not untouchable and the stranger, who Stiles has decided to classify as the so far unknown species _were-bear_, manages to hit Scott with a clawed hand in the head, making Scott tumble to the ground and slam into a tree.

Allison's arrow lands deep in the man's thigh, making him sway and then fall to his knees on the soft soil of the forest bed.

For a short moment Stiles thinks that they've won, but then the giant roars and gets to his feet and all his attention is suddenly on them instead of Scott. Allison already has a new arrow ready, but she doesn't release. If Stiles didn't know her better he'd say she freezes in fear, but the truth is that Allison isn't a killer and instead of planting her arrow in the werewolf's forehead she throws herself to the side, taking Stiles with her in the fall, and the newly named were-bear tears past them like a stampeding bison bull.

The stranger roars so loudly that Stiles almost misses the sound of the shot, already dampened by the thick mist. Not until the giant man falls to the ground, finally still, does he realize that a gun was fired.

Stiles gets to his feet, helping Allison up and turning to watch as Scott gets up, leaning against the trunk of the tree for support. Stiles isn't sure where the shot came from, not until a dark figure appears in the mist behind Scott.

Chris Argent walks right past Scott, kneeling down besides the dead werewolf and pulls Allison's arrows out of the body.

"If you're going to kill something, Allison, then _kill it_." Chris Argent says and looks at his daughter. "An injured animal is the most dangerous kind."

Allison doesn't respond. Instead she backs up until she's firmly planted between her father and Scott, a gesture that makes Chris Argent smile.

"I'm glad to see that strays can still get the upper hand in a fight, Scott." He just says as he walks up to Allison, putting an arm around her and twisting her around until they're both facing Scott.

"Why? Hoping to see me killed?" Scott growls. He's shifted back to normal, but there's still something feral about the way he holds himself.

Chris Argent's smile grows bigger. "Because it means you haven't joined Derek's pack yet. If you had you'd be stronger."

Scott tilts his head, accepting Chris Argent's words as honest. "I can't protect anyone like this though. I lost to an Omega."

"That wasn't an Omega. That was a roaming Beta. They're rare, but not unheard off. When werewolves can't find an Alpha to group up with, they sometimes make a pack without, just for the extra strength and security. The pack bond makes them stronger, but not as strong as they would be with an Alpha. But you don't need other werewolves to have a pack, Scott. Humans won't make you stronger, but they'll let you hold your position as protecting Beta. And Allison can protect herself," Chris says, squeezing Allison's shoulder. "And Stiles… Well maybe Stiles should stay home from now on when you go out to practice."

"But you don't mind if I train with Scott?" Allison asks wide-eyed, looking from her dad to Scott.

"I don't think those were the words I used." Chris points out, but he's not denying the permission either. "I'll take Allison home." He says with a firm hold around her shoulders and he leads her away, out into the mist.

It's not until Stiles moves to pick up the black sports bag that he realize he's hurt. There's a gash running the length of his thigh and blood running from a scratch right under his jaw, but it's a small price to pay all things considered.

The two of them are very quiet on the walk back to the jeep. Stiles is trying to force the whole incident out of his head, because that's a lot easier than having to come to terms with yet another near-death experience. But Scott keeps bringing Stiles back to it by asking if Stiles thinks this means he's allowed to talk to Allison in school as well.

All in all Stiles is pretty relieved when he drops Scott off at his house and drives off home.

On the way he's stupid enough to stop for gas. Stupid because he's already had far more action in one night than he really knows what to do with, but apparently Derek Fucking Hale didn't get that memo.

Stiles has hardly started filling on gas when his jeep is penned in by Derek's black Camaro and a black pick-up truck.

"Oh, come on! What now?" Stiles complains and he's not even trying to play nice, because he's already had to act polite against one unwanted werewolf tonight and really, a boy has his limits.

"Relax, Stiles." Derek says as he gets out of his car, but there's a dangerous smile on his face. "I have no reason to hurt you."

"Then why do I get the feeling that you're going to anyway?" Stiles counters easily, backing away as Derek walks closer.

Derek seems to get the message, because he stops walking, instead running a hand over the hood of Stiles' jeep. "If I hurt you I would be hunted down by the Sheriff and the Argents… And Scott."

Stiles huffs out a breathy laugh and licks his lips. "Except I wouldn't tell my dad or the Argents. This just leaves Scott, who would be running right into your arms."

"Open arms." Derek corrects, smiling.

"But that won't happen, especially not now." Stiles points out. "And you knew that already so that can't really have been your plan."

"I'm so transparent." Derek jokes and leans against the jeep. Stiles realizes that he has no chance of getting into his jeep now, no escape if Derek really does want to hurt him. In the pick-up truck behind them are the rest of Derek's pack; Erica and Boyd talking quietly inside the truck and Isaac standing on the cargo bed of the truck, stupid grin on his face.

"So why am I here?" Stiles asks, because they might as well get it over with.

Derek shrugs and he manages to look very innocent. "Filling on gas, would be my guess."

"Then what…" Stiles tries again, but Derek cuts him off as he pushes off the jeep falling into that threatening military stance that he enjoys so much.

"Stiles, why are you so suspicious, hmm?" He asks and for a moment there's something else than sarcasm in his voice, something that's not anger or spite on his face. Stiles wants to answer that he thinks he has a pretty damn good reason to be suspicious by now, but Derek's tone makes him reconsider. "There's a Kanima running lose. Did you ever think that maybe we're here to keep you safe?"

Stiles decides that glaring is sufficient answer, and when he places the gas pump back in its holder, ends the purchase and gets into the jeep Derek smiles and gets into the Camaro, making room for Stiles to drive away.

Stiles would have been so very, very happy if that had been the end of that night.

He's bruised and injured and even though the wound on his leg has mostly stopped bleeding, he knows that it needs cleaning and bandages. He's been threatened and shoved around, had to deal with Derek's stupid face and really, right now Stiles just want to go to bed and get six hours of sleep before morning practice.

This just isn't Stiles' night.

When he pulls up in front of his house his dad still isn't home. That's the last thing Stiles registers before he's knocked out cold.

* * *

Derek is woken up the next day by Scott yelling his lungs out in the abandoned railway depot. Seriously? The kid is more than a bit over-dramatic. For a fragment of a second Derek thinks Stiles ran to Scott, telling him that Derek and his pack had bullied him, but he dismisses the thought because he knows Stiles is better than that.

"Derek! Derek, I know you're here."

Derek watches from the top of a train compartment as Scott walks around the depot. He though he had taught Scott better by now, taught him to use those senses of his. Really, if he would just shut his eyes and listen for the sound of Derek's heartbeat, find the scent of Derek somewhere between the rust and the mold that soaks the air, he wouldn't have to walk around yelling like a lost child.

In the end Derek takes pity on him and slips to the floor. "I don't go around yelling in your home, Scott."

Scott turns on the spot and it's not until Derek sees Scott's face up close that he realize that Scott might have a valid reason to be here.

"Where is he, Derek?" Scott demands.

And there's just something about the way Scott's holding himself and the look on his face that makes Derek straighten up to his full height. "What are you talking about?"

"Stiles. Where is he?"

Derek looks at Scott for a few seconds, trying to decipher the situation and the accusations. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" Scott roars, taking a step forward. Out of the corner of his eyes Derek can see the rest of his pack closing in, ready to jump in if needed. "Your scent is all over his car."

"Okay, back up." Derek says, and it's not just Scott he's talking to. The pack stops moving. "We didn't take Stiles, Scott." He continues and watches Scott's reaction. Luckily Scott knows when he's being lied to, and the teen deflates a bit, even if the worry and anger in his features doesn't go away. "When did he disappear?"

"I don't know." Scott says, shaking his head. "He didn't show up for practice this morning."

"And the sheriff didn't report him missing?"

"He thought Stiles was with me. He sometimes stays over after we've been out practicing." Scott explains. He's noticed the pack surrounding him now, but he's not reacting to their presence.

"Practicing?" Derek asks confused. But even before Scott answers he's already figured it out himself. Stiles had been injured; he was limping when Derek saw him at the gas station. He smelled of forest and that mixture of Scott and Allison, that's more of a combined smell than two different smells. And then there had also been the smell of...

"Yes, in the forest." Scott says, but Derek is already there.

"Did you run into any stray werewolves yesterday?" Derek asks, but he knows the answer. He's smelled them in the forest and sometimes in town too. Sometimes they travel in packs, sometimes they're alone, but they're all looking for Derek, for the Alpha.

The problem is that Derek doesn't want them. He grew up with his family as his pack and he's doing the best he can to make a new family now. That doesn't include feral strays, hardly more than animals themselves.

Scott nods and seems to understand what Derek's getting at. "Yes, two. One of them ran away and the other... The other one's dead."

"Well there you go. It's your fault then." Derek says, because Derek is all about tactics, all the time, and he's spotted a really good opportunity to bring Scott into his pack.

"My fault?" Scott roars back, stepping in close as his temper rises again. "They were looking for the Alpha! If anything they took him because of you!"

"No, they took him because of you, Scott." Derek growls back. "Because he _stinks_ of you. Because you're stupid enough to bring him out into the forest right under their noses. If you can't protect your pack, don't blame me!"

"He's your pack too!" Scott yells and Derek was not expecting that. For a second he wavers, but Scott isn't giving him a chance to catch his footing.

"You know he is Derek! You know you owe him this. At least"

"I don't own anyone _anything_." Derek snarls, face twitching into a feral snare.

"Yes, _you do_. He saved your life. He's saved your life so many frigging times!" Scott swallows and steps closer and suddenly the teen is all submissive and imploring. "I know you Derek. I _know_ you can't just turn your back on him!"

And Derek hates it. He hates when Scott wins an argument, because Derek is smarter and he should win, but Scott knows just what buttons to push. The ones that triggers Derek's need to have a family, the ones that sets off his good side. And Derek has worked so hard to force that good side down, because it was his heart and his trust that cost him his family in the first place.

"Fine!" Derek breaths the word out like it's dull. "I'll go with you, but only because this is my territory and they're trespassing."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself." Scott throws back and for a moment Derek's eyes lock into Scott's, conveying all the "_Don't even go there!_" that Derek can muster.

"You three stay here!" Derek orders and breaks the stare to look around on his pack members in turn.

"But..." Erica starts, but Derek cuts her off.

"Stay!" He barks and there is no need for the Alpha roar, but he might have used a bit of it anyway, because he really doesn't want them to come. There's far too much on their plates as it is. "I want you all to practice dodging attacks. The Kanima is your main concern right now."

And even though he receives death glares from the three of them he knows they'll do as he says, because they understand the threat they're facing. Derek has made sure of that.

Derek regrets his decision not to bring the pack relatively fast. Their first run through of the town leaves them with nothing but day-old crossing trails of a surprising number of rogue werewolves and Derek can't help but think that if all these grouped together to catch Stiles and use him to bring out Derek, the two of them are severely outnumbered.

"If there are too many of them I'm not sure we can get him out." Derek points out as the two of them drives through town in Derek's Camaro. "Not unless they're willing to give him up freely."

"You don't think we can win a fight?" Scott asks, suddenly wide-eyed, as if he's just now realizing that having an Alpha on your side doesn't mean automatic victory.

"The Alpha title changes hands by killing, Scott. Which means an Alpha can be killed. You were there."

"Yes, but..."

"And you're stronger than the average Beta, yes, but you don't have Alpha strength. You can still be beaten by other Betas. Especially if there are more of them."

"But..." Scott tries again, but Derek doesn't need the teen's predictable interjections, so he just cuts him off again.

"And then there's the little twist where the two of us aren't in the same pack." He points out. "If it came to a fight we wouldn't trust each other. That's just the way things are. It can't be helped now."

Scott clenches his jaw and does his best to stare Derek down, because he clearly feels that Derek is back at the whole: "_Join me and I will complete your training! With our combined strength we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy!_"- strategy. And he'd be right, too. That is always Derek's agenda and for once he thinks he has a very good chance of getting his point through even Scott's thick head.

"I'm not going to join you. Especially not now." Scott says and sticks his head out the window to see if he can catch Stiles smell in the wind.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Derek demands, because Scott is really making a point of being as hurtful about his rejections as he can.

"I mean not after you tried to kill Lydia. Not after your pack's become the town bullies." Scott points out. "Right now your pack is everything I want to protect this town from."

"But you can't protect it, can you? You can't even protect your own pack." Derek counters and pulls the car over as they reach the forest. "If you were with me you could keep them safe, you could keep Stiles safe. With all the werewolves coming here he's going to need you."

"Stiles has you to look after him too." Scott says quietly, and Derek realizes that they're not arguing anymore - They're negotiating.

Derek lets out a tired sigh. "I don't have the time to babysit a human teen, Scott. I have three werewolf teens, that's more than enough."

But Scott is good, he's annoyingly good and he reads Derek way better than he should, much better than Derek's own pack does.

"Look, say whatever you want." Scott says. "I know you care about him! You can't _not_ care, not after all he's done for you."

Derek makes a point not to answer accusations like that, so instead he falls to all four and sets off into the forest and Scott follows reluctantly.

* * *

Stiles wakes up to find he's bleeding again, sticky blood caking to his pants and to the make-shift bandages the werewolves wrapped around his thigh last night.

The werewolves keeping him tied up aren't a pack. They don't seem to know each other and hardly talk. The one exception, of cause, is the woman. The dark-haired she-wolf from the day before. Somehow Stiles wasn't surprised to find her face smiling down at him when he first woke up. She seems completely determined to get to Derek, no matter what it takes.

She's less of a bitch than Stiles had pegged her to be, though. She was the one to bandage his leg and she's the one who brings him water and a blanket. The other four that Stiles can see coming and going from the clearing seems to be in different stages of going completely feral.

Stiles guesses that's why they're keeping to the woods. It's not exactly optimal, to be hiding away in the forest, when the point of kidnapping Stiles seems to be to get an audience with Derek, but these feral strays wouldn't blend in very well in down town Beacon Hill.

The woman comes over and crouches down in front of Stiles, head tilted to the side as she watches him.

"Don't worry, pet." She says comforting. "A little charmer like you? I'm sure your pack will come looking for you soon. The Alphas who allows humans into their packs are often very protective of them. You see, humans keep us human. You can see what happens to us if we lose human contact for too long." She ends nodding over at the two most feral werewolves who are stretching out next to the fire like a couple of hunting dogs.

Stiles is about to answer when the woman stretches out of her crouch and spins around. The rest of the werewolves follow her lead and they group up between Stiles and whatever they're looking at. Stiles hopes it's Scott, maybe even Allison, just as long as they haven't involved Stiles dad. Oh god, Stiles' been gone all night. Have the Police been looking for him as well?

"Frena." Derek's deep voice says and Stiles has to admit he hadn't seen that coming. He tries to get to his feet, to edge his way around the stray werewolves to get a better look, but he falls in the soft soil as pain shoots through his leg.

"Derek?" The woman says, so she must be Frena. "Well, color me surprised. I though the smell was familiar. I didn't know you'd come home."

"I had reasons." Derek deflects and there's something dangerous in his voice. The strays back up and for a moment Stiles thinks it's because of Derek's voice, but then he realize that Derek is moving closer, circling to get a visual on Stiles. Stiles catch a glimpse of Scott standing next to Derek, and another thought hits Stiles, because what if Scott has joined Derek's pack now, just to save Stiles?

"I bet you did." Frena continues as if Derek's display of Alpha power hadn't just occurred. "Must have been very good reasons, too. Since you stayed in a town full of hunters."

"My pack is here." Derek says, voice just on the edge of a growl. His eyes are on Stiles, on the wound in Stiles leg, and Stiles realizes that Scott and Derek must be able to smell the blood. Maybe that's even how they found the camp.

"And what a gorgeous pack it is." Frena points out, looking at Scott. "Hi, we met yesterday."

"I remember." Scott growls. "I'm more interested in the part where you kidnapped my friend!"

"Your...? Oh, I assumed he belonged to the alpha." Frena says confused.

"Stiles doesn't _belong_ to anyone..." Scott begins, but Derek cuts him off.

"He does. Stiles is under the protection of two Alphas. And you managed to piss us both off." And Derek's voice is full growl now. "Not really the best start for you."

"Oh, but this one isn't a _true_ Alpha, I'd say." Frena says, looking at Scott with interest. "But this is _precious_. Two different packs, right here under the nose of hunters. It's quite the town."

"It's our town. " Derek points out. "And you're not welcome."

And suddenly Frena is serious and her flirting smile disappears. "Look, I just came here to join the Alpha. I'm strong and smart and I haven't gone feral. If you like blending into a small town I'm an expert."

"Smart?" Derek growls. "You kidnapped a human from the Alpha's pack. And you, what? Though you'd be welcomed in with open arms?"

Frena doesn't answer, but she doesn't back down either. Stiles can see Scott leaving Derek's side, and then everything happens too fast for Stiles' human eyes to follow it all. Derek jumps, changing into Alpha wolf mid-air and Scott moves around the stray werewolves, sliding to Stiles side in the wet mud and helps him to his feet.

They turn to see Derek fighting the five werewolves, muzzle bloody already.

"Can't he just roar and make them back down?" Stiles asks wide-eyed.

"Not if they're not in his pack." Scott explains and half-drags Stiles away from the fight.

Stiles can feel the pull in Scott, the urge to jump in and help Derek, and Stiles wonders again if Scott has joined Derek's pack. Maybe he has without even noticing himself.

"Go ahead. He needs you." Stiles whispers, knowing that Scott will hear it fine. Just to prove he means it he pulls free of Scott's hold, leaning against a tree instead. "Go!"

And there's a small smile on Scott's face when he changes and leaps in to help Derek.

Stiles watches the fight with open mouth and it's like a clash of titans. But the strays have made a mistake. Stiles had been right when he deduced that they weren't a pack. If they had accepted each other and bound themselves into their own pack, they would have been much stronger. As it is, it's just 5 rogue werewolves, fighting a full-wolf Alpha and a very strong Beta, and they are losing - fast. Scott and Derek aren't even fighting to kill, aiming instead for arms and legs, trying to injure bad enough that the strays will give up.

In the end Frena does what she apparently does best - tuck tail and run. She backs away with a hiss, looking from Scott to Derek and she's limping, but it doesn't seem to slow her down much as she turns and disappears. With Frena gone the feral werewolves submit, whimpering like actual injured dogs as Derek lets out a fierce Alpha roar of victory.

Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't find it very impressive, but luckily no one asks him.

It takes a while for Derek to cool down enough to change back to his normal self and even then he doesn't seem to care about the injured strays. Apparently neither does Scott, who limps over to Stiles, leaning back against the same tree, panting for air, but smiling.

"I've never felt this good about hurting anyone before." Scott admits, looking at Stiles out of the corner of his eyes.

"Do you think it's him?" Stiles asks, nodding towards Derek. "You think he's in your head?"

"I haven't said yes to him, Stiles." Scott sighs, bending down to examine the bite marks on his own leg.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, but Scott doesn't answer, just shakes his head.

"Derek." He calls instead, waving the Alpha over. "You need to help Stiles out of here; I'm not healing very well."

"Frena bit you. She's a Beta so her bites are more severe." Derek explains and grabs Stiles arm and moves it around his own shoulders so he's carrying Stiles weight. Stiles tries to fight it, but he doubts Derek even notices.

"Is my dad looking for me?"

"No, he thinks you spend the night at my house." Scott says and he's already looking better, the limp almost completely gone.

"What am I supposed to tell him? I can't go home like this." Stiles points out, and his legs choose that very moment to give in under him. Instead of helping him back on his feet, however, Derek just bends down and picks Stiles up in his arms, and what the hell, that's not okay. But for some reason Stiles doesn't complain, because at least Derek isn't carrying him under one arm, although Stiles secretly thinks Derek could with little effort.

"We need to take you to the hospital." Scott says, taking a closer look at Stiles soaked bandages.

"And say what?" Derek growls and stops walking, instead looking at Scott. "Look, Stiles can stay at the depot. At least he'll be safe."

"But..."

"But what, Scott? How exactly would you explain this to the Sheriff?"

Scott glares back, but doesn't give an answer. And to be honest Stiles doesn't have a better idea either.

It's another five minutes slow jog to Derek's car and Stiles can't help but think that Derek should have picked him up a long time ago, because they move so much faster than before.

Derek sets Stiles down next to the car, but doesn't let go before he's sure Stiles' legs can support him.

"I'm supposed to meet up with Allison." Scott says and checks his leg, but all the wounds have healed now. "I guess I can run there. Maybe I'll talk to her dad, see if there's something we can do to keep the strays away."

But still Scott makes no move to run off, and it takes Stiles a moment to realize that he doesn't want to leave Stiles alone with Derek. So maybe Scott isn't a part of Derek's pack yet. If he was he would trust Derek implicitly, Stiles is pretty sure that's how it works.

Derek's just a bit slower than Stiles, but he gets to the same conclusion eventually, sighing heavily.

"He'll be _fine_, Scott. He just needs a few hours of sleep." Derek says and he gets in the car and opens the passenger side door to let Stiles in.

Stiles is not afraid of Derek, he hasn't been for a long time. Because he's seen Derek more vulnerable than anyone else in their little entourage and Stiles knows that Derek is all bark and no bite.

"It's okay." He says and pads Scott's shoulder. "Say _hi_ to Allison from me."

Scott nods and his eyes rests on Derek in the car for a moment longer before he takes off down the street, falling to all four as he picks up in speed.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Stiles asks and limps to the open door. "I'm going to bleed on your seats."

"Get in the car, Stiles." Derek sighs and looks up at Stiles. And Stiles does as he's told, slumping back against the car seat and drifting off as Derek starts the car and drives through town.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek drives the Camaro all the way into the old train depot and shuts off the engine. Stiles is still asleep, head lulling against his own shoulder and mouth slightly open. Derek can't help but smile.

He walks around the car and detaches Stiles from his seat belt and manages to lift him out of the car without waking him up. He's aware that the pack watches him as he carries the teen from the car and into the rusty train wagon that Derek has claimed as his own, but he really couldn't care less. Gently he lowers Stiles onto the little float of seat cushions that he uses for bed and for a moment he hesitates, looking at the blood-soaked bandages.

He'll need to clean and re-bandage the wound, but it's not something he has a lot of experience with. He considers calling in Isaac to help him, but he ends up doing it himself, just because it's easier than having to explain why Stiles is even there.

The bandages have been quickly wrapped on top of Stiles' jeans to stop the bleeding, but from the looks of it, the wound hasn't been cleaned, bits of leaf and dirt still stuck in the drying blood.

Derek feels oddly uncomfortable as he opens Stiles belt and drags his jeans down and he's pretty sure it has to do with the fact that Stiles is still asleep, so he makes the call to shake the teen gently awake.

"Stiles. I need you awake right now, okay?" He says and gets a disgruntled growl as response. "I need you to tell me if it hurts."

Stiles manages to open his eyes and Derek helps him sit.

"Oh God, that looks disgusting. Is that really mine?" Stiles asks and for a moment he looks as though he might throw up.

"This'll probably hurt a bit, you don't have to look." Derek says, and he moves between Stiles legs to pull the pants further down. The fabric of the jeans is stuck inside the dried blood of the wound and Derek has to carefully wash the blood away to get it loose.

After a while Derek looks up to find Stiles staring at him.

"Why are you doing this?" Stiles asks and winches as Derek pulls the rest of his jeans free of the wound. "Isn't this a job for one of your minions?"

"You'd rather Erica did it?" Derek asks, and it's fun to see Stiles go pale at the thought.

"No, now that you mention it, not really, no." Stiles mutters quickly.

"I'm sure she'd be a very good nurse." Derek jokes and smiles when Stiles swallows. Derek isn't sure if Stiles is thinking of Erica in a nurse costume or Erica knocking him out cold, and scrubbing his wounds clean with sandpaper. Either one seems likely.

Derek washes the rest of the wound clean and dries it off with a towel before he bends Stiles leg so he can wrap the shreds of a clean sheet around the thigh. It's not until he looks at Stiles' face again that he realizes just how intimate the whole thing is.

Stiles is staring at him, eyes a bit darker and mouth open, and he looks like he's about to ask something.

"I finally managed to shut you up." Derek comments and Stiles seems to pull himself together and closes his mouth.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it's not going to work." Stiles says, and for some reason it takes a while for Derek to realize that Stiles has changed the subject. "Scott can tell when he's being lied to."

"What are you talking about?" Derek asks even though he knows exactly what Stiles is referring to.

"This. Being nice and helping, trying to make Scott think you care. He'll see through it."

"There's nothing to see through, Stiles." Derek says, finishing off the bandaging with a safety pin. "There. All done, you can go back to sleep."

"Derek?" And Stiles voice is different, less accusing and a lot softer.

"_Go. To sleep_." Derek repeats and finds the blanket on the floor.

"I can't." Stiles says. "This place is fucking freezing."

"No it's not; you're just cold because you've lost blood." Derek points out, but Stiles is in fact shaking. Derek's not sure why he ends up giving in, because Derek recognizes the scent and signals coming from Stiles, even though the teen seems unaware himself. Eventually, though, he sighs and moves around the make-shift bed. He pushes Stiles forward and slips in behind him, pulling the teen back between his legs until he's leaned against Derek's chest. Derek covers them both with the blanket and wraps an arm around Stiles chest.

"Don't think this means that I forgive you." Stiles mutters, but there's a smile in his voice.

"Forgive me for what?" Derek asks, moving to find a better place to lean his head against the wall.

"Trying to kill my girlfriend."

"She's not your girlfriend." Derek says and huffs out a laugh.

"I wish she was, though." Stiles tries again, and Derek thinks Stiles' attempts at lying to himself are really adorable.

"No you don't."

"Stop that!" Stiles snaps, fingers digging into Derek's thigh, because it's the only place he can reach. It doesn't hurt the slightest.

"I'll stop, when you stop lying." Derek counters and leans his chin against the top of Stiles' head. "Now go the fuck to sleep."

"I need to get up for school." Stiles mumbles.

"No you don't, it's Saturday tomorrow."

"Oh," And then Stiles drifts off, head resting against Derek's shoulder, breathing warm air into Derek's neck.

Stiles is a surprisingly heavy sleeper. Surprisingly, because Derek has never seen the teen be this quiet and peaceful before. Smiling, he allows himself a moment to appreciate it.

Stiles manages to twist during the night and ends up cuddled against Derek chest to chest. Derek finds that he doesn't mind too much.

When it's light enough that Derek can justify calling it morning he untangles himself from Stiles' clingy arms. The teen makes a disgruntled noise, but doesn't wake. Derek pulls the blanket up to cover Stiles again and exits the train wagon as quietly as he can.

He takes a moment to listen for the rest of the pack. Boyd is awake, beating the crap out of a punch bag out back. Isaac and Erica are still asleep, curled up together in a wagon nearby. As far as Derek can tell they're not having sex, but they seem to find some sort of comfort in sharing a bed anyway, and Derek has no intention of interfering in it, not as long as they can handle whatever they're doing like grown-ups.

He does a fast lap of the perimeter, checking for strange smells. When he's satisfied that the area is secure he returns to his Camaro and drives out of the depot as quietly as he can - Saturday mornings are sacred, after all.

When he's clear of the depot and nosy teens with superhuman hearing he calls Scott.

"Yeah?" Scott answers with a hushed voice, and Derek remembers that Scott works Saturday mornings at the vet.

"I'm going over to Stiles' house to pick up a new set of clothes. He can't go home in the ones he was wearing." Derek explains quickly. "I need you to call Allison and have her set up a meeting with her father."

"What, _now_?"

"Yes, _now_." Derek growls back. "Once I've dropped off the clothes for Stiles I'm going straight to the Argents, and I'd prefer if I didn't get a bullet in my head when I arrive."

"Derek…"

"Don't argue, Scott. Just set it up."

"Sure. I'll see what I can do. I'll call you back if they seem, you know, in a decapitating mood."

"Thanks." Derek says and hangs up. If Scott notices that he's starting to take orders from Derek like a part of his pack, he doesn't comment on it.

Derek knows something is wrong the moment he pulls up in front of Stiles house and really, he shouldn't be surprised to catch Frena's scent there, except the scent is fresh and the window to Stiles room has been pried open.

Except for Frena's smell, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Stiles' room is surprisingly clean, even his bed has been made, and if Derek hadn't felt a strong urge to get out of there and hunt Frena down, he might have taken the time to add his own scent to cover hers, just because. Instead he finds a clean set of clothes and stuffs them in a bag he finds in the closet. He fills it with a clean sheet for bandages and finds Stiles' Adderall in one of the drawers of his desk. After a few seconds of deliberation he drops Stiles' toothbrush on top of the clothes and crawls back out the window.

He's half expecting Stiles to still be asleep when he gets back, but the train wagon is empty. The smell of Stiles is still strong, especially in his bed, but the teen isn't there.

He throws Stiles' bag on the bed and goes back out in the depot, looking for the teen's heartbeat or the sound of his voice, but all he can hear is the pack training out back. Boyd is getting his ass kicked by Erica, by the sound of it, and Derek is secretly pleased.

He finds them all in a pile in the wet dirt outside, covered in mud and laughing. Erica and Isaac are on top of Boyd and he's trying to break loose, but Erica is straddling him and keeps finding new places to tickle him. Derek realizes that he's not sure he's ever heard the three of them laugh.

He watches them for a moment longer, deciding not to interrupt their cuddle-pile. When he turns to leave, however, Isaac spots him.

"Derek!" He blurts out with a smile and scrambles to his feet. "There was someone here for you. We told her to get lost."

"_Her_?" Derek suddenly feels very cold.

"Yeah." Erica says with a slightly bitter smile. "Dark hair, brown eyes, skinny. Just your type, you know, except for the boobs."

"When was she here?" He growls, ignoring Erica's comment.

"About the same time Stiles left?" Isaac says screwing the lid off a water bottle and throwing another one to Boyd. "He was wearing your clothes by the way."

Derek feels like his stomach and his heart just tried to switch position. Running through the depot, he sniffs at the air for any trace of Stiles, finding a weak scent of the teen's blood in the air between Derek's wagon and the exit. Just a few feet outside Stiles' scent mixes with Frena's.

"Why do you keep running after that guy?" Erica asks, coming up behind Derek.

"Why did you let him leave?" Derek growls back and Erica stumbles backwards a few steps, until she hits the solid shapes of Isaac and Boyd.

"He's a grown up, Derek. What were we supposed to do? Tie him up?" Boyd asks, putting a soothing hand on Erica's shoulder.

"Is he really more important to you than we are? We're your pack!" Erica snarls, stomping her foot.

"He's my…" Derek growls as he spins around to face them, but he can't find a word to end the sentence.

"Your what, Derek?" Erica presses and Derek is surprised to see actual tears in her eyes. "Your friend? Your pet? Tell me, because I don't get it."

Derek doesn't get it either, he just knows that he needs Stiles to be safe. And if his own pack is determined to work against him on that, he doesn't want any of them. "Don't test me on this, Erica, or I will kick you all out. And don't you think for a second that I won't or can't."

"No. I don't doubt that." She whispers, her huge eyes wet with tears. "And it scares the living shit out of me."

* * *

Stiles tries to turn around in the air, to get a better picture of where he is, but the wire is cutting into his wrists every time he moves. Instead he tries to listen for cars driving past nearby, but all he hears is a few birds and the wind in the treetops above him.

His leg is bleeding through the bandages and he's starting to feel very cold, hanging only in his boxers. He's already starting to lose feeling in his hands and arms, which okay, is a decent change from the pain he felt before, but he knows the reason for it, so it doesn't really add to his current happiness.

Something else that doesn't add to his current happiness?

"Aww. Don't be scared, pet." Frena says and spins him around in the air. She lets a hand glide up against the inside of this thigh and smiles up to him. "I have to admit, I thought _I_ was having a bad couple of days, but life just doesn't seem to agree with you." She slides her hand down the bloody bandages, collecting blood on her fingers, ignoring the sob of pain that Stiles can't quite hold back. "So the Alpha is Derek Hale of all people. Him and me go way back, you know. And he lets his toys out of his sight. Now, that's just not very professional of him. "She moves her fingers and writes her name on Stiles' other leg with blood.

"See. You belong to me now, pet." She bites her lip and leans in to lick across Stiles' stomach. "So, what am I going to do with you?"

* * *

The fact that no one blames Derek for losing Stiles comes as bit of a surprise to the Alpha. He expected a guilt trip from Scott, at least. Some judgmental comment about how Derek had said that Stiles would be safe with him. But nothing.

Instead Scott just leaves work and promises to call back once he's talked to the Argents. Derek spends the next fifteen minutes running around the forest, chasing blind leads. He tries to follow the trail of Stiles' blood, but it's all over the forest, mixed with the scent of at least a dozen different strays.

When Scott calls again, Derek meets them by the road outside the forest. Allison and Chris Argent are apparently equipping themselves for a war, testing their bows and loading guns. Mr. Argent waves Derek over to the hood of his car and folds out a map of the forest.

"This," Argent says and points at the screen of his tablet. "Is the werewolves we're currently tracking." The tablet shows a piece of the forest and small red dots that Derek realizes are werewolves tagged with a GPS. As Argent moves the tablet over the map on the hood of the car, the image on the tablet changes to follow the map, and new dots show up on the screen.

Derek grabs the tablet out of Argent's hands and places it over their current location. Neither he nor Scott shows up as red dots and he hands the tablet back to Argent, who smiles.

"My father has access to this software." He says, looking at Derek. "I'm very careful about what type of werewolves I GPS tag."

Derek doesn't want to like Chris Argent, and he certainly doesn't trust him, but he's beginning to appreciate the man's integrity.

"So," Argent continues. "Tell us what going on in there."

"They seem to have spread tracks all over this part of the forest." Derek says and points around the map. "This is where the scent was strongest. There was blood and tracks of a lot of werewolves, not just Frena. Although hers was the strongest." He adds and looks at Scott.

"We're sure Frena took him?"

"Yes. She knows exactly what he's worth to us."

"She already tried this, why would she try again?" Allison asks, looking from Scott to Derek.

"Maybe she wants to take her anger out on him." Derek says, trying his hardest not to let it show how much that thought terrifies him. "Maybe she wants to bargain. She'd be hardcore enough to demand to be Alpha."

"She could be Alpha, if she'd just get some of those strays to join her pack, right?" Scott asks confused.

"Not Alpha like you Scott, Alpha like me." He tries to explain. "A real Alpha."

"But she can only get that if..."

"If she kills me, right. And she could demand that if she wanted."

"But..."

"But nothing, Scott." Derek cuts him off. "Let's just concentrate now and hope it doesn't come down to that."

"There's a cluster of feral werewolves about three miles east of here." Argent says, moving his tablet around over the map. "I say we start there."

"Scott and I will run in front, scout the area." Derek agrees. "We'll call once we get a visual."

Derek sets the pace and Scott falls in behind him, taking Derek's right side.

"You know that spot is reserved for my second in command." Derek points out, trying to sound casual about it.

"Yeah well, there are only two of us, which makes me second in command, right?" Scott deflects.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

And Derek leaves it at that, because he already feels the new pull, slowly knitting Scott into his pack. And he's wanted this for so long, but right now he can't enjoy it, because the empty hole in his pack he thought would be filled when Scott joined them is still there.

And Derek knows that if they're too late, if they don't find Stiles in time, that hole will always be there.

They slow down as they approach the make-shift camp. There are at least a dozen werewolves there, mostly feral by the looks and smell of them and Derek isn't sure if he would even be able to tell if Stiles was in there.

Scott's phone vibrates, and Derek is glad that Scott has at least learned to shut off the sound. It's Allison's number, but it's her father's voice. "_Scott, you've got friendlies incoming from behind. Loop back to pick them up._"

And just then Derek spots them through the trees, three shapes sprinting towards them and Derek sets off to meet them, Scott right behind him. All five of them break speed and come to a halt in a circle and there's a moment of silence where Isaac, Erica and Boyd takes in the new link to Scott.

"We figured... "Isaac starts, but he looks at Derek like he's not sure how to finish.

"We figured this was a pack thing." Boyd says, eyes flashing golden with the excitement of the chase.

"We ran into the Argents a few miles back." Erica tells Derek. "They were taking down two strays for questioning."

"Did they say where Stiles was?" Scott asks and Erica nods.

"They said north, deeper in. Derek, they..." She stops and Derek thinks it must be guilt on her face. "They said he was hurt, badly. That Frena had... claimed him."

"Had what?" Scott looks so confused, and Derek realizes that Scott is missing so much, so much he still has to learn. But Derek doesn't think much further than that. He doesn't even notice when the Alpha takes over, he just starts to move - dodging through the threes, sprinting deeper into the woods, and the Pack falls in behind him. Scott stays at Derek's right shoulder, as they cover the distance between them and Stiles, and as they come up on the next camp and they catch the scent of Stiles among the sharp smell of the strays, Derek isn't thinking anymore.

The pack clashes against the strays with the force of a freight train and Derek never stops to count how many they are, nor does he stop to fight any of them. He's determined to take Frena down before she manages to slip away again.

Scott is Scott, going for legs and arms, but Derek doesn't show the same restrains. Frena doesn't have Derek's speed or strength, and she's helpless against him. He feels the snap of her spine between his jaws, and the irony taste of her blood, but he's not stopping, not until he's sure her body is broken apart, torn to pieces without any shred of life left in them. Derek isn't even sure she realizes what hits her; he's certainly never seen surprise like that stare back at him through dead eyes. Underestimation is everyone's downfall.

When Derek manages to take control over the Alpha instincts and shift back, Scott is already at Stiles side. The teen is in pretty bad shape; He's completely naked, curled up on the ground, shaking. Frena has bitten him several times, deep in the neck, and his wrists are bruised and bleeding. The gash on the leg has stopped bleeding, but instead it's yellowish and infected.

Scott digs out his phone and gets to his feet, leaving the spot next to Stiles to Derek as he starts pacing, waiting for Allison to pick up her phone.

Once again it's her father at the other end. "_Did you get him_?"

"Yes. Yes, but it's bad." Scott says, and his voice is shaking. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"He's not going to make it to the hospital!" Derek growls and holds out his hand for the phone. Scott hands it over and switch places with Derek again, as Derek gets to his feet.

"He's not going to live long enough for you to take him to a hospital!" He growls into the phone.

"_If you turn him I can't protect you anymore, Derek_." Chris Argent points out, but Derek is far past caring about that.

"If I don't, he dies!"

"I'm not gonna die." Stiles mumbles and Derek spins around to see the teen has opened his eyes. He's shaking badly and Scott is wrapping his own jacket around him. "Derek. I don't want you to go feral like them. You need me human."

"I need you alive, you idiot." Derek hears himself growling back and Stiles manages a weak smile before he passes out again.

"_Derek_!" Argent calls through the phone, and Derek brings it back up to his ear. "_Derek, bring him to me, okay? Don't do anything stupid_!"

Derek is torn for another three seconds, but then he throws the phone back to Scott and picks Stiles up from the ground. The pack falls in around him as he runs through the forest and they cover the distance at a frantic pace, slowing down only when they reach the Argents.

"Here," Argent says, pointing to the ground and Derek places Stiles on the assigned spot as Chris Argent takes out a medic kit, digging through the content. He produces a white bottle and sprays Stiles' wounds with a clear liquid. The liquid expands on contact with Stiles' pale skin, covers and seals off the wounds.

"Military." Argent explains and looks firmly at Derek. "This is fixable, Derek."

Derek is afraid to look back at him, afraid to believe him. But in the end he nods and Argent returns his full attention to Stiles various wounds.

"He has a dislocated wrist, but I don't see any fractures." Argent says. "I have no idea about internal bleeding."

"I vote we get me to a hospital." Stiles mumbles and Derek is pretty sure his heart skips several beats. Because with all the times he's told Stiles to shut up, he never realized how much he would miss the sound of his voice.

* * *

Stiles has to blink against the sharpness of the light that flashes past above him, and holy fucking shit, would someone just knock him out already so he doesn't have to be in this much pain?

There are voices above him and around him, but they're a blur, impossible to make sense off. He tries to hold on to their words, but they slip away. The only thing that's a constant is the solid feeling of a hand in his.

"I need less people in here." A male voice demands just as Stiles feels the world around him stop moving. The hand slips out of his and without it Stiles doesn't have anything to keep him from tumbling over the edge and into complete and frightening darkness.

It's the beeping sounds that bring him back again. He tries to move, but everything is too heavy. He's not having much luck with his vocal cords either, or maybe he's just not able to coordinate it into words. But something must have come out because there's movement by his side, and Stiles manages to focus and his dad comes into view.

"...as you needed." His dad is saying, and Stiles' not sure how much his dad manages to blurt out before Stiles can decipher the sounds into real words. "But I swear to God, you're grounded for the rest of your life."

"Not much incentive for me to wake up then." Stiles croaks out, but he's not sure his dad is quite ready for the joke. "Relax, I'm fine, right?"

"You're more fine than not fine." His dad says and Stiles is pretty sure that if he can't get a straight answer out of his dad now, he never will. "If Mr. Argent hadn't found you when he did..."

"No matter what happened, it wasn't my fault, okay?" Stiles mumbles and manages to move his hand to cover his dad's. And it's the most comfort he can give, because everything else he has to tell his dad is going to be one big lie. "So, what _did_ happen?"

"Doc called it an animal attack, another mountain lion, most likely. He's not sure what to make of your other injuries." His dad breaks off and searches Stiles face. "The marks on your wrists."

Stiles realizes just how doped up he must be when it all comes crashing back to him and he manages to stay relatively numb about it.

"I honestly don't remember any of it, dad." He says and he thinks that he'd probably be very happy if that was the truth.

His dad watches him and then pulls his hand out from under Stiles' to stroke it across Stiles' cheek. "If someone did anything to you, Stiles."

"Then I'm sure you would hunt them down and bring fierce justice, I know."

"Well, I'm not sure I would ever get the chance." His dad confesses with a sad smile. "There's a pretty determined and worried group of people outside, just waiting to beat me to it."

Stiles suck in a breath. "Can I...?"

"Absolutely no, and then some more no's, if that first one was insufficient." His dad cuts him off. "No visitors. You need to sleep."

Stiles can't help but smile as he gives in to sleep and the darkness isn't as scary this time around.

* * *

After Derek leaves the hospital that first day he doesn't come back. The rest of the pack goes, not just Scott, and Derek is very surprised to see them actually caring about someone besides themselves for a change. Scott asks Derek to come with them, but Derek is determined to stay away. He expected it to be hard, but it's surprisingly easy. He doesn't need to see Stiles like this, to be reminded that it's most likely not going to be the last time something like this happens. Humans are so breakable.

Another reason to stay away from Stiles is the guilt. Not just for losing Stiles in the first place, but for how he reacted when they found him. For letting the Alpha take over, for giving in to every feral need he had to protect and avenge his pack. He knew this would be the price when he killed Peter, and he had been reminded again when he thought he had to kill Lydia. The Alpha would do everything in its power to keep its pack safe. But killing Frena had gone beyond feral instincts. It had been blood lust, pure and simple, and there was no excuse for it.

But he can't change what he did. What he can do is to help the Argents chase all the strays out of the area and afterwards Derek starts marking up his territory. It's probably not going to keep new werewolves from drifting in, but it gives him a good reason to kick them out again when he catches them.

When Stiles is released from the hospital, Derek gathers the courage to go see him, mostly because Erica in pretty R-rated terms reminds Derek that there are still some parts of Derek's territory that needs marking.

* * *

Stiles knows better than to take Derek's absence personal. Sure, he's _hoping_ that Derek will show up at some point, but he's not really surprised when he doesn't. What does surprise him is that the rest of Derek's pack shows up daily while he's in the hospital, just to check up on him. In the beginning he thinks they're there to keep an eye on him, to make sure there's no more strays lurking around, waiting for their chance to grab him. When he asks Scott about it, however, Scott gives the cryptic answer that it's a pack thing.

He assumes that means that the two packs have become one, and he also assumes that this would make Derek his new Alpha - technically. Because Stiles isn't a werewolf and Derek has no real control over Stiles. There isn't any real connection - any _bond_ - that ties Stiles to the pack or to Derek. Except two days after Stiles returns from the hospital, Stiles is forced to reconsider that assumption. Because no way in hell should Stiles have known that Derek was standing in Stiles' living room, doing that creepy thing he does where he apparently thinks it's a waste of time to say hi, or _grunt_, or what the hell, even _move_.

But he just knows that Derek is there, even if Stiles can't see him from the couch where Stiles spends most of his day, curled up with his laptop in front of the TV.

"Took you long enough." Stiles says by way of greeting, not bothering to twist his head to look at Derek. Instead he reaches for his crutches and fights his way out of the couch. "I was beginning to think you were planning to ignore me forever."

"I..." Derek starts, but he seems to be caught off guard.

"Don't strain yourself or anything." Stiles deadpans and silence spreads for a moment as they both take in the person in front of them. In the end Stiles has to break it. "I had Scott run around in the forest to find your clothes by the way. They're in one piece."

"Why didn't he just bring them to me?"

"Ah, you know, I thought I should wash the blood off them first." Stiles says with a shrug.

"As one usually does after borrowing clothes." Derek agrees.

"Oh, humor. Like I said, don't strain yourself." Stiles tries to make it sound lighthearted, but there might be a little bitterness there. He's not sure if Derek catches it though, he hopes not. To draw attention to something else he heads for the stairs, mostly because he knows it's going to take ages to climb them.

Derek waits for him to climb the grand total of two steps before Stiles finds himself being lifted up and carried to the top of the staircase.

"You really have a thing for carrying people around." Stiles comments as Derek lets Stiles back on his feet.

"I don't know anyone else that would ever need carrying." Derek counters easily, and there's that softness again. The one that Stiles had almost convinced himself he had imagined when Derek cleaned the wound on Stiles' leg in the train wagon.

Stiles takes a better hold of his crutches and limps over to his closet, and if it's a bad excuse to get some distance and turn his back to Derek, well, he's the only one who knows that. "Sorry to be such a burden."

"You're not…"

"I was joking." Stiles cuts him off and takes the neatly folded clothes out of the closet. "Here you go." He holds the clothes out to Derek, but instead of taking the clothes Derek grabs Stiles hand, looking at the deep, red marks from where the wire had cut into Stiles' skin when he fought to get loose.

"Ah, yeah." Stiles aims for casual, but the crack in his voice might be giving him away. "My dad asked about those. Hard to blame a mountain lion."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I didn't remember anything." Stiles shrugs.

"But you do."

"Far too vividly. The nightmares are nothing compared to when I close my eyes and it all replays." And Stiles isn't sure why he says that, other than, well it's true and he wants to say it out loud to someone. And he can't tell his dad and he would never tell Scott. But when he sees the look on Derek's face he wishes he'd never opened his mouth.

"I let that happen to you." Derek mumbles, and Stiles isn't sure he's even aware he said it out loud.

"Don't." Stiles says as softly as he can. "You don't get to do that to yourself, Derek. Okay? Don't you dare put the blame on yourself."

Stiles and Derek seems to realize at the same time that Derek's still holding Stiles hand, but instead of letting go Derek pulls Stiles in, slowly, and turns him so he can look at the bite marks on the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles can't help but tremble a little as Derek runs fingers over the wound.

"They're gruesome, right? I feel like an extra in a horror movie."

"She had no right to." Derek points out, and Stiles isn't sure how he manages to growl when his voice is barely more than a whisper.

"Ehm, I'm pretty sure she had no right to do any of it." Stiles says and licks his lips nervously, because he's not completely comfortable with the physical contact.

"Of course not, but this…" Derek growls, seemingly unable or unwilling to finish the sentence. "Did Scott explain?"

"About the claiming? He tried; I wasn't really in the mood to hear the disturbing details of why she had…" Stiles trails off, as it all comes crashing back to him, and he doesn't mean to pull his hand back or squirm away from Derek. He just needs a bit of space.

"That was also because of me." Derek points out, and if he's offended by Stiles need for distance, he doesn't show it. "She was taunting me, claiming what belonged to me."

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure I don't _belong_ to you." Stiles feels like clarifying, but Derek just smiles.

"Of course you do." He says as if Stiles is completely missing what's right in front of him. "Just like you belonged to Scott. I'm your Alpha. Which also means that I am going to have to mark you in some way. Make sure there is no doubt which pack you belong to. Make sure everyone knows what would happen to them if they hurt you."

"And how does that work?" Stiles asks and swallows nervously, and apparently that's enough to make Derek smile again.

"Scent, mostly." Derek specify, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is to werewolves.

"Ahh yes, you're all very fond of that scent thing."

"It's one of our strongest senses." Derek agrees, and Stiles is suddenly aware that Derek is smiling again, and he's also pretty sure he knows why.

"And you can smell everything?" Stiles asks, voice breaking over almost every word, making Derek's smile grow wider.

"Close enough."

And Stiles has no doubt what Derek smells on Stiles right now, because Stiles is famous for his notorious concentration problems, and there is no way he can focus enough to calm the teenage hormones down, not when Derek is looking at him like that. "You're not going to let me keep any shred of dignity, are you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Derek says softly. "Take off your shirt."

And if Stiles' heart rate doubles, it's really not his fault. "I don't..."

But Derek just looks at him as if he's being silly. Stiles hesitates a few moments longer before he shifts his weight and places the crutches against the wall. It takes a bit of effort to get his shirt off, because of bruised ribs, sprained wrist and general soreness all over, and when he finally gets it off Derek has removed his own shirt and he's watching Stiles with an expression that gets more and more painful as his eyes finds every cut and bruise.

"Here." Derek says, handing Stiles the shirt he was just wearing, which Stiles guesses must smell of Derek, but Derek's eyes stays fixated on Stiles chest and his hands slowly come up to touch the places his eyes rests. Carefully Derek examines every mark on Stiles chest and back, until in the end Derek's eyes finds the bite mark on Stiles neck again, as if he just can't help but gravitate towards it.

"Why..." Stiles starts, but has to swallow before he continues. "Why would she feel like she had to do it? What she did?"

Derek doesn't answer right away and the silent way he examines the back of Stiles' neck makes Stiles squirm a little. "You were unclaimed." He says in the end. "And she wanted to hurt me for turning her away. She's always been good at reading people; she knew just where to hit me."

Stiles actually shiver a bit at that, and he's very happy that he has his back turned, because that way Derek won't be able to see the way Stiles eyes widen and his mouth slides open.

"I would never do anything like this." Derek blurts out and his voice is full of pain. Stiles spins around just to find himself a lot closer to Derek's face than he had expected, but he doesn't back away.

"I know that." Stiles whispers and he doesn't even take the time to worry about consequences or repercussions or the fact that he can hardly keep his frigging balance on his own. He just leans up and to press his lips against Derek's and for whatever absurd reason Derek actually meets him halfway, as if the Alpha has been holding himself back for days.

And it's awkward as hell at first, because Stiles isn't sure he's actually allowed to do this - to reduce Derek Hale to someone you just kiss when you feel like it. And Derek is holding back too, because he's not sure is he's allowed to actually have this - to have Stiles mouth against his, open and willing and soft and begging for more. And neither of them will ever be able to say when the kiss starts to change into something deeper and more urgent, but suddenly the wall between Derek's insecurities and Stiles inferiority complexes melts down until there is no barrier between the two of them.

Stiles welcomes Derek's tongue against his own, and he thinks for a moment that kissing Derek Hale while they are both shirtless is a thing he never actually thought would happen. But it is happening, and Derek sure doesn't seem to mind the shirtless part, not that he ever did. He seems extremely grateful for every inch of Stiles skin that he's allowed to touch, and Stiles really wants to tell him that it's actually an _all access_ pass, but he guesses he'll get the chance to tell Derek later.

"You should have come to see me a long time ago." Stiles points out when they break the kiss, leaving both of them panting. Stiles leans in and rests his head against Derek's shoulder, breathing in the warm scent of him.

"I should never have left in the first place." Derek counters and when Stiles lifts his head to look at him, Derek's eyes are dark and begging, and it hits Stiles that Derek is still waiting to be forgiven.

"You were the one who held my hand at the hospital, weren't you?" Stiles asks, and it's something that's been haunting him since he woke up. "When I first arrived. That was you."

"Until they kicked me out." Derek says and leans his head in to nuzzle his nose into Stiles' short hair.

And Stiles can't help letting out a soft, breathy laugh. "That was all I had to hold on to. I don't think I would have made it if I hadn't had that hand. You keep saving my life. I'm beginning to feel like Lois Lane."

"I think, actually, this just equals out all the times you've saved me." Derek says and presses a kiss to the top of Stiles head.

"I think that's a very good base to start on." Stiles adds and tilts his head up to reclaim Derek's mouth. Derek can't help but agree.

* * *

A/N: Don't forget to Review! And Follow me on Tumblr is you're into that sort of thing. I'm pentakill-lux there as well.

Oh gosh, I was horrible this time, weren't I? I keep wanting to hurt those boys. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this second half because this is considered complete now.

BUT!

Like with Being In A Pack, this too will get an Easter Egg, but it won't appear until enough people have begged for it. Because I'm just not a very nice person.


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